Beyond the Pale
by VoodooQueen
Summary: Her first contact with alien life left her traumatized and terrified of all non-humans. A temporary transfer from the relative safety of her command to the Normandy to assist with repairs brings her literally face-to-face with her worst nightmare. Can sheer terror be transformed into trust? Friendship? Perhaps something more? The resident turian certainly hopes so.
1. Chapter 1

Beyond the Pale: Chapter 1

By: Voodoo Queen

 **Author's Note: I've been on a bit of a videogame kick lately and this was the result. Please let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own characters & plot…but you know that.**

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The rumble of the ship's power core droned on incessantly in the background. Most of the other engineers found the sound annoying to a degree, comparative to a flying insect buzzing around one's ear demanding their attention. Chief Propulsion Engineer Lamb, however, found the constant monotone sound and vibration soothing, comforting even. It gave her something to focus on other than her own thoughts and memories while she tweaked the ship's main engines. She could zone out, that numbing buzz inside her mind, and forget while her fingers manipulated the machinery with practiced professional ease. She didn't have to think. She didn't have to dwell on the ghosts of her past that continued to haunt her even after so many years spent trying to exorcise them. She just had to do.

Running from her past had gotten where she was today. Joining the Alliance Navy had been an escape and, if she were honest, a way to do her part to avenge those she had been forced to leave behind. Her family had been among those who had been callously disposed of. They hadn't ever stood a chance, really. The monsters, there wasn't really any other way she could accurately describe them, had made quick work of those humans who had resisted. They had more or less leveled the entire colony, justifying it as being a perfectly acceptable action against a lesser species. Regardless, they were predators and their efficient systematic and calculated overthrow of the colony had suggested to her, even at the tender age of five, that they were incapable of mercy or empathy. She had learned quickly to be wary of those who were not like herself…especially the monsters.

The aftermath of the liberation had been almost as horrendous as the invasion had been. Shanty towns full of orphans, herself included, and the displaced popped up everywhere, dotting the war-torn landscape. Food and resources were scarce. Crime flourished as an alternative to starving to death. The once thriving colony her family had called home had been reduced to little more than a wasteland where it was kill or be killed. Even the Alliance attempts at rebuilding after the occupation hadn't been enough to heal the damage that had been wrought. She'd grown up doing what she had to do to survive and had struggled ever since in more ways than one.

The grief and heartache she'd endured after the loss of her family to the alien forces still weighed heavily on her narrow shoulders. She tried to console herself with the fact that despite every obstacle against her she had somehow managed to make it out and make something of herself. She had saved what few precious credits she had been able to scrounge together and had bought her way out of the ruins that had been her home. She had survived and persevered but at a great cost no one but she could even begin to understand. It was their fault…the monsters. They had destroyed every good thing she had ever known and had left her an empty, fractured shell of what she could have been had their paths never crossed.

Her calm, quiet professional persona was a front. It hid away the timid, fearful young woman her encounter with the alien monsters had turned her into. Her shipmates, knowing nothing of her past but the fabricated story she had concocted to ease her own pain were none the wiser. She did her job and did it well and that's all that really mattered. Sure, she had some xenophobic tendencies but what human didn't when it came right down to it? It had never really been a problem so far as outside observers were aware. She could work civilly with the few aliens that shared her ship from time to time as alien liaisons and advisors and such. She didn't have to be their friend or speak with them outside of her duties and everyone wrote it off as a part of her introverted personality. They didn't need to know about the fear and anxiety that plagued her every interaction with non-humans. Thankfully, none of them were Turian. There was just something about the turians, their apex predator status, namely, that made her blood run cold through her veins.

"Chief Lamb!"

Speak of the devil…or xenos, rather. She ground her teeth together in order to fortify her senses and spun on her heel to face the source of the voice. Her face, a mask of indifference, hid well the fact that her stomach was tying itself in knots. She eyed the Asari tech advisor coolly and tried to keep her gaze locked onto the alien's eyes instead of the strange, tentacle-like protrusions on her head. She tried to focus on anything but the other woman's alien features. Her heart felt as though it was trying to beat its way out of her chest and her breathing hitched in her throat but when she parted her lips to speak her voice, surprisingly, was steady and strong due mainly to the years of practice she'd had to perfect her nonchalance. "Yes. What is it?"

"Commander Winslow wishes to see you on the observation deck." The Asari waited patiently for acknowledgement.

Chief Lamb nodded. "Thank you. Tell him I'll be right up."

"Yes, Chief."

She watched the Asari go with a feeling of relief and let out a shuddering breath she hadn't even been aware she'd been holding once the woman disappeared from sight. Her hands, which she'd clasped tightly behind her back, untangled themselves and dropped, trembling, to her sides. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the soothing hum of the power core. She let the familiar sound wash over her. Deep breaths. In and out. She steadied herself and straightened her spine defiantly as her pounding heart began to slow.

"You're fine," she breathed to herself as she moved to the engine room exit to meet with her Commander. "There's nothing to be afraid of. You're absolutely fine."

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"Shepard, Tali and I are perfectly capable of doing a simple core conversion in Lieutenant Adams' absence. Tali's one of the best engineers in the galaxy and I've read up on all of the Normandy's specs between missions to pass the time. Plus, I've seen Adams do it a million times. Hell, it's so simple even a husk could do it. Stopping to pick up another engineer is going to put us behind schedule."

"Tell me something I don't know. I'm not saying you two are incapable, Garrus." John Shepard eyed his friend with an amused smirk. "Anderson, however, thinks propulsion overhauls should be done by an actual propulsion engineer, not ex C-Sec officers who moonlight as vigilantes and nomad quarians."

"Well, where's the fun in that?" Garrus Vakarian sighed, his dual-toned voice harmonizing his words, and crossed his arms across his broad chest. "I'm assuming Anderson has someone in mind, then?"

"You know it." Shepard slid the personnel file across his desk where the Turian intercepted it with a taloned hand. "Looks pretty impressive to me. She's on loan to us from another ship for the duration of the repairs. I'd like you and Tali to assist since you're familiar with the ship's systems. Besides," Shepard shrugged, "I'm sure there will be some kind of calibrations involved. What do you say?"

"You had me at calibrations." Garrus answered with an amused rumble as he thumbed open the file. Chief Engineer Louise Lamb. Assigned to the Battle Cruiser Hyperion under Commanding Officer DeShawn Winslow. Possesses advanced degrees in both engineering and quantum mechanics…hmmm. Shepard," Garrus' icy blue eyes darted quickly over the rest of the file. "Most of her personal information is either incomplete or redacted."

"Yeah," Shepard nodded. "I noticed that, too. It's not uncommon to redact sensitive information but I thought blacking out basic demographic info was a little weird, myself. I like to know who I'm allowing into my crew…even if it is only on a temporary basis."

"I agree, Shepard. Working with you has made me a little leery around strangers. Being shot at all the time does that to a man." Garrus raised a plated brow in question. "Do you think she's legit or should I dust off my good body armor to wait for her arrival?"

"Anderson swears she's on the level. Best in the fleet, in fact." Shepard folded his hands together behind his head and leaned back in his chair. "He didn't know much about her personally but her professional accomplishments are pretty self-explanatory. Her commanding officer had nothing but praise for her and her work and wants her returned to the Hyperion as soon as we're done with her. He was very adamant about it and not too happy that Anderson had her sent TAD to us. Winslow did mention she is a bit on the quiet side, though. A loner, I believe, is the word he used."

"A mysterious, anti-social propulsion engineer." Garrus hummed to himself. "Sounds like a good time to me."

"I thought you liked a good mystery, Officer Vakarian," Shepard deadpanned. "Surely all that time spent in C-Sec taught you how to make people talk. Maybe you can interrogate her down in the engine room while you work on the power core."

"I'm not sure C-Sec interrogation tactics are the best way to greet a new colleague but," Garrus' mandibles shifted into a crooked grin. "You're right. I do enjoy a mystery. Helps keep my detective skills sharp."

"Fantastic," Shepard straightened in his seat and caught the personnel file as Garrus slid it back across the desk top. "That's settled then. We're meeting the Hyperion at the Citadel in three days. They're docking for a quick supply replenishment. We'll be bring Chief Lamb on board at that time and give the crew a couple days of shore leave while we work out the logistics."

"Great." Garrus pushed himself to his feet and stood tall. "In the meantime, I think I'll go ahead and polish up that body armor. You know, just in case."

"Never hurts to be prepared, I suppose."

"You got that right." Garrus nodded his farewell as he showed himself out of his Commander's quarters. "Later, Commander."

 **End of Chapter 1**


	2. Chapter 2

Beyond the Pale: Chapter 2

By: Voodoo Queen

 **Author's Note: Hello, Dear Readers. I am back with another chapter for this story. I am also diligently working on putting together new chapters for my other stories as well so to those who have IM'd me asking for an update, please be patient. Most of them are already written, however, I write in a very confusing, chaotic way. I have bits and pieces of fics saved on my desktop, on my laptop, on my iPad, and on my phone. Putting a chapter together is like a surgical procedure with a lot of cutting and splicing but it works for me. There is a method to my madness. Are any of you writers out there as scattered as I am? What's your method? I'm curious**

 **I should probably mention that this story will not follow any set path of the game as I don't like to limit myself in terms of plot. I like to let my imagination run wild. I would also like to take the opportunity to thank all of you who took the time out to read the last chapter and especially those who took the time to drop a review. Adelphe24, I'm looking at YOU! I hope that you enjoyed the beginning of this little saga. Now, on with the next chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own characters & plot.**

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She hated the Citadel with a fiery passion. She much preferred the familiarity and security of her own quarters on the Hyperion. Whenever Commander Winslow decided to dock the ship at the Citadel for any length of time she would always forego the offered shore leave and take the opportunity to hole up in her room, locked safely inside away from everyone and everything until the battle cruiser was once again cutting through the blackness of space. She had no desire to be out there amongst the masses. The Citadel was notoriously teeming with alien life and while she may have been able to hide her visceral reaction to her Asari crew mate, there was no way her fragile psyche could withstand contact on that type of scale.

What's more, the Citadel was positively crawling with Turians and the mere thought nearly sent her into hysterics. C-Sec, in fact, was full of them. Over half of all Citadel Security officers were Turian, she recalled a fellow crewman once commenting offhand. She knew that other races lauded the Turians as being honorable with a great sense of community service which made them the perfect choice to enforce the law of the land. Personally, she thought the whole arrangement reeked of suicidal tendencies. Where others saw honor and community concern she could saw the potential for mass havoc and destruction. Where other races praised their discipline and level-headedness, all she saw were monsters who had destroyed everything she had ever loved.

Was she angry? Hell, yes. She was furious and that fury had colored her view of all non-human life in general. That anger paled in comparison, however, to the intense fear of anything alien that had been engrained into her at such a young age. She had never been able to shake the terror that had plagued her childhood. She had managed to move a bit beyond it at first, taking tentative baby steps further and further outside of her very miniscule comfort zone. Then, she'd met her first turian outside of a war zone. Teeth, claws, sharp, unforgiving angles and hard, unyielding plates. Predatory eyes, wicked mandibles, and that strange, flanged voice. Everything had come flooding back in one big, instantaneous rush as the female turian had made no attempt to hide the utter contempt and hatred she felt for humans…namely the timid, young girl who had crossed her path. The terrifying encounter had somehow become tangled up with the slaughter of her colony in her mind and it haunted her dreams every night even after all this time.

More often than not she would wake in her bunk, sheets twisted and tangled around her sweating, trembling form, lungs burning for air as she gasped, blinking rapidly to try to dispel the visions of carnage and chaos still dancing before her eyes. These weren't the types of nightmares that could just be forgotten over breakfast the next morning. Her nightmares were living, breathing entities that still stalked the Universe during the waking hours. That knowledge alone was enough to send her pulse rate skyrocketing and her head spinning if she dwelled on it too much.

Therefore, it was with much dread and trepidation that she carefully planned her transition from the Hyperion to the Normandy. She had carefully gauged the distance between the two ships' berths and the amount of time it would take her to get from point A to point B. The less time she spent outside the safety of an Alliance ship, the less her chances of having to interact with a non-human or, God forbid, run into a turian. She didn't see why the Normandy needed her expertise anyway. Commander Shepard was more or less a living legend. Surely, he had his own engineers to care for and maintain a ship as fine as the Normandy, but who was she to argue with the powers that be? No one, that's who.

She had quickly packed what she thought she needed into her Alliance-issued gear bag: A couple changes of uniform, clean undergarments, toiletries, her standard tech supplies and her own personal tool bag. She carried only the bare essentials. Core conversions were a fairly simple, straight forward affair and she didn't anticipate being on the ship for too long. At least, that was her hope. She didn't like being out of her element for any longer than necessary. There was security in familiarity and the thought of having to familiarize herself with not only a new ship but a new crew as well had her anxiety flaring well outside her limits of comfort. The sooner the Normandy was squared away, the sooner she could be back within the familiar hull of the Hyperion where the worst thing she had to deal with was dodging that damned Asari.

She did a quick check around her quarters to make sure she wasn't forgetting anything and closed up her bag. She checked the time on her omni-tool. They had been docked at the Citadel for about an hour now and she figured it was enough time for those who weren't involved in the replenishment to have vacated the ship for some much desired shore leave. Swinging her bag up onto her back she cautiously exited her quarters, looking warily up and down the p-way. Just as she figured, the crew section of the ship seemed to be deserted. It was now or never.

Sucking in a fortifying breath, she forced herself to adopt a confident pose despite the nervous fluttering in her stomach and the sickly ache building behind her eyes. Spine straight, shoulders back and chin up, she made her way down the hallway, her steps heavy and sure. She adopted the expression of a woman on a mission with her eyes straight ahead and her mouth set into a scowl of grim determination that dared anyone to try to stop her or get in her way. Left, right, left, right, one foot in front of the other she moved until she found herself standing on the Hyperion's exit ramp. The Normandy wasn't expecting her until sometime early in the morning but her nerves wouldn't let her wait that long to transfer during the morning rush. If she was going to go, it would have to be now while the throngs of people were at their minimum.

She looked out at the docking level and surveyed the area. It was relatively quiet but there were still various races and species of people lingering here and there. Some were working and others were obviously on their way to enjoy a night out. A couple C-Sec officers, turians no less, ambled by on patrol giving her a cursory glance and an acknowledging nod as they passed by. In that brief moment she felt her heart plummet to her stomach and bile rise in her throat. Her hands trembled and sweat dotted her brow as her fight or flight instincts kicked in. Her brain screamed at her to run, to seek safety or find shelter but she locked her knees and held fast until the two officers rounded a corner and vanished out of sight. It would have done no good to show weakness in the face of her enemy.

"You're fine," she reassured herself once the surge of adrenaline wore off. "Forget about the aliens. Forget about the monsters. Just get to the Normandy. Everything will be fine." With those last words, Chief Lamb forced herself out into the fray.

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Jeff "Joker" Moreau was in his usual place in the pilot's chair on the Normandy's bridge when an incoming communication pinged through to the ship's main communications terminal. "This is the SSV Normandy. Flight Lieutenant Moreau speaking."

"Lieutenant Moreau," a terse voice spoke. "This is Chief Lamb. Requesting permission to come aboard." 

"Uh," Joker chuckled, "You know, Chief, we weren't expecting you until tomorrow morning. Everyone, Commander Shepard included, is on shore leave."

"Understood," the voice seemed to grow in impatience. "However, I feel it would be in the best interest of the ship and everyone involved if I could get started on this project right away. Time is a valuable commodity, Lieutenant Moreau. If now is not a good time…"

"Oh, no," Joker clarified. "That's not what I meant. Now is fine. I'm sure Shepard wouldn't mind getting a jump on repairs. Permission to come aboard granted." He disengaged the main door's lock to admit their guest. "Give me a few minutes and I'll be down there to meet you. I'm not very, uh…mobile."

"No need, Lieutenant." The voice spoke dismissively. "I took the liberty of requesting a copy of the Normandy's deck plans from Anderson. I've done my research and I've familiarized myself with the Normandy's layout. I'll be on the bridge in five."

"Ah, well…" Joker smirked to himself and settled back down in the pilot's seat. "Alright. Works for me. I'll see you in a few."

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True to her word, Chief Lamb had gone ahead to research the Normandy's layout. It helped to quell her anxiety somewhat to know where everything was. Just as she had exited the Hyperion, she entered the Normandy in the same fashion. She moved with purpose and determination in stark contrast to what she actually felt inside. In reality, her stomach was turning somersaults, her mouth was dry like a desert, and her skin was cold and clammy. Thankfully, as Flight Lieutenant Moreau had pointed out, everyone seemed to be on shore leave which meant she met with no resistance as she traversed her way to the bridge. Five minutes later, as estimated, she was standing on said bridge.

She popped to attention, ramrod straight, as Flight Lieutenant Moreau struggled to stand and greet her. She gave a sharp salute to the Normandy's pilot. "Lieutenant Moreau, Chief Engineer Lamb reporting for duty as ordered, Sir."

"Whoa," Joker laughed and returned her salute sloppily. "You can dial it back a notch there, Chief. That Lieutenant and Sir bit doesn't fly with me." He stuck his hand out in greeting. "The name's Jeff but most people on board just call me Joker."

Chief Lamb raised one eyebrow and ignored the offered hand. Her eyes never strayed from the man's face and her posture never faltered. "With all due respect, Sir. I'd much rather stick to military protocols."

"Oh-kay, then." Joker snorted and dropped his hand a bit awkwardly back to his side. "I, um, I guess you'll want to dive right in, then?"

"Yes, Sir." Chief Lamb hesitated only for a moment before adding, "With your permission, of course."

"Sure," Joker nodded. "Make yourself at home. I'll ping the Commander and let him know you're here. He had a bunk set aside for you in the crew quarters near engineering so you can make yourself at home. Need me to have someone come up and show you how to get there?"

"No need, Sir." Chief Lamb bent stiffly to retrieve her bag and sling it back up onto her back before resuming her rigid posture. "I'll manage."

"Right…" Joker coughed to cover up a snicker that threatened to escape. "I forgot. You've 'studied' the floor plan." He looked at the woman in confusion. Instead of hustling off as he had expected her to, she still stood ramrod straight looking him dead in the eye as if expecting him to say more. "Is there something I'm missing?" he finally asked.

"No, Sir." The woman remained unflinching.

"So…" Joker shuffled awkwardly. "Uh…is there something else you need?

The woman huffed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Your permission to carry on, Sir."

"Oh…right." Joker shrugged. "I guess, uh, I guess you're dismissed."

"Thank you, Sir." The Chief popped another sharp salute to the Flight Lieutenant before spinning precisely on her heel and marching off with the same determined stride she had marched in with and disappeared into the ship.

Joker waited until he was sure she was out of the range of hearing before nearly doubling over in laughter and wincing in pain as he felt one of his ribs give a familiar twinge of discomfort causing him to quickly silence himself. He wiped at his eyes. "Oh, man," he snorted as he straightened himself and eased back down into the pilot's seat, "This is gonna be great."

"Is something the matter, Jeff?" the disembodied voice of the ship's AI system managed to sound strangely concerned.

"Nah, EDI." Joker chuckled. "Everything's great. Where is Commander Shepard and Vakarian right now?"

"The Commander and Officer Vakarian are currently at Purgatory having drinks with the rest of the crew." EDI, paused. "Would you like for me to open up a channel, Jeff?"

"Yeah," Joker smirked. "Do that EDI. I need to let Garrus know he has some competition. That chick has a bigger stick up her ass than he ever did. He's gonna have to work hard to top that."

 **End of Chapter 2**


	3. Chapter 3

Beyond the Pale: Chapter 3

By: Voodoo Queen

 **Author's Note: Hello, Dear Readers. I really do need to put myself on an update schedule for my fics. When I'm on a roll with one, I always feel as if I'm neglecting the others. That being said, here's another update, lol. I hope that you read and enjoy. As always, I'd like to take this opportunity to give my thanks to all that read, followed, and favorited since my last post. I would especially like to give thanks to adlephe24, Mordinette, and SaiLena for taking the time out to leave a review. Your thoughts and opinions provide motivation as well as help me to become a better writer. On with the chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own characters & plot.**

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The crew quarters hadn't been hard to find. Despite the strides women had made within the military establishment they were still the minority in a predominately male dominated environment. That said, Chief Lamb wasn't surprised how small the female crew berthing was. Upon entry there was a very small common area with two small tables bolted down into the floor to prevent them from becoming high-speed projectiles in the event of a catastrophe. A neat stack of hard plastic chairs were pushed up against the wall for anyone interested in pulling up a seat and watching the small vid screen recessed into the wall during their down time.

She moved deeper into the berthing her hazel eyes darting about looking for a free space to stow her gear. There were 24 racks, three high, which comprised the main sleeping quarters. Standup lockers lined the wall on the opposite side. Small name plaques announced which rack/locker belonged to whom. In the very back corner she had finally found her name, hastily and sloppily written on a piece of masking tape, and slapped haphazardly onto the side of the bottom rack closest to the bulkhead. It appeared she'd been given the space farthest away from the Normandy's other female enlisted crew mates. Isolated. Quiet.

With a sigh of relief, she tossed her bag down onto the rack and sank down to sit on the edge. Trembling hands made their way to temples where they tried their best to massage away the ache pounding behind overstrained eyes. Deep breaths. In. One, two, three. Out. One, two, three. Repeat. She had made it to her destination without incident or injury. With that knowledge entrenched firmly in her mind, her heart slowed to the point where she no longer felt it would beat its way out of her chest. The tension finally ebbed away to a bearable level and she allowed herself to refocus on the mission at hand. She pushed herself back up to her feet and set about stowing her gear away. The sooner she got started, the sooner it would all be over and she could return to the familiarity of the Hyperion.

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"Alright, Joker." Commander Shepard nodded even though the pilot couldn't see him. A chuckle followed, "I'll let Garrus know. If you change your mind about coming out, you know where to find us."

Garrus Vakarian waited patiently, a plated brow raised in interest, until the other man said his farewells to the Normandy's pilot before inquiring, "You'll let Garrus know what?"

"That you may have some competition." Shepard smirked, "Joker thinks her's may be bigger but he'll need to see them both for an accurate comparison."

Garrus sputtered as he nearly choked on the imported Palaven beer he'd been sipping, the crude insinuation in Shepard's words not lost on him. He'd been around humans long enough to grasp some of the more commonly thrown about innuendos. "What in the Spirits' name is Joker talking about?"

Shepard laughed at the look on his turian friend's face, somewhere between curiosity and scandal, and took a sip of his own beer before replying, "The stick up her ass. He said there's probably enough wood up there to build a full-scale replica of the Great Wall of China."

"Shepard, that's," Garrus shuddered. "I don't know what a China is but that's a bad mental picture."

"Heh," Shepard shrugged. "Apparently the Chief decided to show up early and get right to work. Joker said she seems pretty stiff." Shepard took another swig from his beer. "Looks like you may have your work cut out for you, Officer Vakarian. She may be a tough egg to crack."

"Well, you know me, Shepard." Garrus stretched back in his seat and took another swig of his drink. "I do love a challenge."

"Really?" Shepard feigned ignorance, "I hadn't noticed."

"Hmmm," Garrus rolled his icy blue eyes at his human friend and hummed in contemplation as he gazed out toward the club's dance floor. "You know, the entire engineering department is out there falling all over themselves."

Shepard picked up on Garrus' train of thought and nodded quickly in agreement. "I don't like the idea of someone I don't know poking around in the Normandy's insides without someone being there that I trust either. Not with the Alliance's politics being what they are. We aren't exactly in their good graces at the moment."

Garrus swallowed down the last of his beer and pushed the empty bottle away. "You want me to head back to the ship? Keep an eye on things?"

Shepard seemed to consider the turian's offer. His eyes darting from the man across the table and back to gaze longingly at his half-finished beer. A tired sigh escaped him and he shook his head in the negative. "Nah, Garrus, stay and enjoy yourself. You've earned the shore leave. Besides," he stated as he stood and plunked a credit chit down on the table, "As CO I should formally welcome her to the ship and, who knows, maybe she won't be as bad as Joker thinks she is."

Garrus chuckled, "Alright, but if you need me…"

"I'll call," Shepard nodded and slapped his friend on the back, "Have fun, Garrus."

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One of the first things she noticed about the Normandy was how quiet it was. Logically, she knew that the Normandy was a stealth ship and that soundlessness was an integral part of remaining undetectable but moving through the engineering decks to familiarize herself with the layout she found herself keenly missing the monotonous hum and constant vibration beneath her feet that the Hyperion seemed to always generate even in port. She'd never really paid much attention to how loud the battle cruiser was but the absence of sound now seemed to echo from within the very pit of her being, making her feel anxious and out of sorts. Without even being consciously aware of it she, herself, had begun to hum a single, constant note just to fill the void as she made her way into the Normandy's propulsion plant.

She pulled up short as the door slid open in its frame, unsure if she should be in awe or intimidated. The drive core was enormous in comparison to the size of the vessel. She'd gone over all of the schematics, certainly, but it was no comparison to seeing the engineering marvel up close and personal. She'd studied the technology behind the Normandy's engineering in depth when she'd been in the Alliance's Engineering Academy as it was a prototype upon which the Alliance hoped to build more vessels. She'd been immediately fascinated and had memorized the placement of nearly every nut and bolt. Her fingers twitched, itching to dig in and disassemble what lay before her, to be elbows deep in the ship's internal components, to lose herself in the comfort of her work. Eagerly, she took a step toward the drive core's console.

"Chief Lamb?"

In the silence of the ship, the sound of the voice seemed to go right through her. Automatically, she gasped and her hand flew to her now rapidly pounding heart even as she spun around towards the source. It took her brain a second to catch up and take in who had spoken but when it did her body moved out of habit into the rigid military posture to which it was accustomed. Her mouth opened and the words tumbled out, careful and measured as always. "Apologies, Sir. You scared me. Flight Lieutenant Moreau had informed me everyone was on shore leave."

"I should be the one apologizing. I didn't mean to sneak up on you. I'm Commander John Shepard. The Normandy is my ship." Shepard took in the woman's unwavering stance, her meticulously kept blonde hair coiled tightly into a bun at the nape of her neck, her immaculate uniform, shined boots, the hard stare in her hazel eyes, and couldn't help the smirk that came to his lips as he recalled Joker's description of the woman. He shook his head, "At ease, Chief."

"Thank you, Sir." Instead of relaxing completely, she moved into a parade rest: Her feet a shoulder width apart, back straight, and her hands clasped loosely behind her back. "Chief Louise Lamb, reporting as ordered."

"You know," Shepard started. "We weren't expecting you until tomorrow morning or else I would have been here to greet you when you came aboard. Any particular reason for the early arrival."

"I," the Chief swallowed. "I thought it would be best to get started ASAP. Commander Winslow would like this wrapped up quickly so that I can return to my regular duties." It wasn't completely a lie but the Normandy's Commander didn't need to know how badly the Citadel terrified her.

"I see," Shepard nodded. "When I spoke with him on comm he had nothing but positive things to say about your work. Are you familiar with the Normandy's drive systems?"

A corner of the Chief's mouth pulled up in what could have been a smile. "Yes, Sir. I've studied the ship's systems in depth both as an engineering student and on my own as a way to keep up to date on propulsion technology. She is quite an impressive engineering feat, Sir."

"That she is," Shepard gave the Chief a grin and turned to look at the drive core. "Do you have an estimate as to how long this core conversion is going to take?"

"It shouldn't take more than a couple weeks, Sir." Chief Lamb broke her pose to move toward the consoles and look into the drive core. "All the supplies are to be on loaded tomorrow morning. My suggestion is to change out the cells in the secondary systems first with the upgraded ones. Once those are on line I can move on to the main systems. While the main systems are down the secondary systems should be able to compensate without any noticeable change in thrust or maneuverability."

"Sounds like a plan." Shepard nodded and turned back to face the woman. "I've asked a couple of my crew to assist you in the overhaul. They're both on shore leave right now but they'll be back first thing in the morning."

"Assistance is not necessary, Sir." Chief Lamb could feel her anxiety ratchet up a notch at the thought of having to work with strangers. "I'm perfectly capable of completing the work on my own. There's no need to reassign anyone from their duties."

Shepard laughed, "You sound just like one of the guys I asked to help you." He shook his head. "I'm sure you're capable, Chief. From what I've heard you're one of the best engineers the Alliance has to offer. It's nothing against you or your skills but I'd really like to have someone on deck who has already seen the Normandy's inner workings."

"Aye," the Chief cleared her throat, not liking the way that one single word had slipped out sounding full of perturbation. She tried again and was satisfied with the amount of detachment she was able to inject, "Aye, aye, Commander."

"Well, I should go and let you get back to your inspection. If you have any questions or concerns feel free to reach out to myself or another member of the crew." Shepard turned and moved toward the exit and just before passing through tossed out, "I'll see you in the morning, Chief."

"Yes, Sir." Chief Lamb let out a long, shuddering breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding as the door slid shut. Her shoulder sagged and her knees felt suddenly weak and not in a good way. She didn't want and/or need any help doing her job. She could almost feel the awkwardness that was sure to ensue upon meeting her 'helpers'. It wasn't something she looked forward too nor was it a situation should would have readily chosen to place herself into. The only saving grace was that being an Alliance vessel it was pretty much guaranteed that whomever the Commander had chosen to help her would more than likely be Alliance Academy trained and certified so at least would know what they were doing and why they were doing it. She just hoped they weren't big on conversation. She hated talking to new people. She hated talking to people in general. With a final heavy sigh she, herself, turned toward the door but not before casting another longing glance toward the drive core. "See you in the morning."

 **End of Chapter 3**


	4. Chapter 4

Beyond the Pale: Chapter 4

By: Voodoo Queen

 **Author's Note: I'm really trying to do better as far as updates are concerned. I have four different chapters going right now for four different stories so it's a little overwhelming. I do, however, certainly hope you enjoy the results of my labors. First things first, I'd very much like to thank those of you who read the last chapter and felt my story was compelling enough to add to your alerts and favorites. Extra special thanks to those who took a couple minutes to leave a review: adelphe24, Pikahopp, Citadel, sabba5600, and coally34! I sincerely appreciate the support.**

 **On a side note, my favorite turian has not had much 'screen time' as of yet. That will be changing in this chapter. So, my dearest Garrus, I profusely apologize for what I am about to put you through. It changes nothing. I still love you. LOL!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own characters & plot…but you know that.**

XXXXXXXXXX

It didn't happen often but when it did, it threw his entire day out of whack. Commander Shepard checked the time on his omnitool once again and cursed under his breath. He must have had more to drink than he had thought the previous night because he had overslept by at least an hour and fifteen minutes. He had slept right through his alarm and that didn't bode well for the rest of the day. EDI hadn't even taken the initiative to wake him which he thought odd but he didn't dwell on it. There was too much to do. It had been the plan to have the needed maintenance supplies loaded onto the ship by 0900 when the crew's liberty expired so that the necessary pre-departure preparations could be completed in order to be underway by 1100. It was presently 0745 and that 1100 departure time wasn't looking very likely.

At least the rest of the crew had been more punctual. Nearly everyone was already on board, at their stations, and accounted for. It was one less thing that he had to worry about. He'd already gone to inform Tali that he wanted to meet with her and Garrus to formally introduce them to their on-loan propulsion engineer but the quarian had apparently had a bit too much to drink herself and after a brief search Shepard found her curled up on one of the couches in the port observation deck. She had been snoring softly, the distortion from her mask warped the sound ever so slightly and had caused him to smile fondly. Instead of waking her, he had carefully straightened the blanket she had managed to scrounge up from somewhere and tucked it gently around her form. He would let her rest a bit more. She deserved it.

Garrus had commed him earlier as he'd been hopping around his quarters on one foot frantically trying to get his uniform pants on and his teeth brushed at the same time. Garrus, who sounded quite awake and aware, was still at C-Sec catching up with some of his former colleagues but assured he would be back on board and ready to go by no later than 0815. Shepard couldn't help but feel a little tinge of jealousy toward the ex-detective. What he wouldn't give for some of that turian punctuality and temperance…especially this morning. Then again, he supposed being a turian and growing up in a society that placed value on the good of the whole rather than self probably was big on stressing time management and not getting falling down drunk when it could interfere with one's other obligations. If nothing else, Garrus Vakarian had come by it honestly and Shepard was hard pressed to think of anyone else he'd rather have on his crew.

He knew that he really, really needed to get a move on but first…he needed coffee. He made his way to the mess deck where the tempting aroma of coffee was already wafting about. Thankful that someone had beat him to the coffee pot and set it to brew, he immediately began rummaging through the cabinets for a clean mug. Snagging one, he quickly poured himself a cup of the life-giving beverage and allowed himself a moment to lean back against the cabinets and enjoy the first invigorating swallow. The anticipation of the caffeine soon to be flowing through his veins had him feeling more in tune with the day and so, with a slightly better outlook on the situation, he decided it was time to check in with Joker and get a rundown on the status of the ship before getting down to business with the cargo.

He found the Normandy's pilot, not surprisingly, in his usual place at the helm already engaged in a discussion with the resident AI as he watched the ship's security feed.

"EDI, all I'm saying is, why doesn't she just go down there? I mean, wouldn't it be easier than yelling at the guys on the dock and cracking cases open at the bay doors?"

"Jeff," the disembodied voice of the AI replied, "It has been my observation that different individuals have a tendency to approach tasks in different ways based on their skill, experience, and training. Just because one person does something one way doesn't necessarily mean it's the only way to get it done."

"I know that, EDI." Joker huffed, "It's just weird, is all."

"What's weird?" Commander Shepard came to a rest next to the pilot's seat and leaned forward as he sipped his coffee in order to get a better view of the screen. "Anything I should know about?"

"Well, rise and shine, Commander." Joker turned in his seat slightly to get a better view of his commanding officer. "I was thinking about sending out a search party to see if you were still alive up there."

"Jeff, I am constantly observing the crew for any signs of distress. Were there a medical emergency in the Commander's quarters I would have dispatched the appropriate medical staff. There is no need to form a search and rescue squad."

"EDI," Joker sighed, "It's a figure of speech, alright…and that's kind of creepy. Just saying."

Commander Shepard laughed, "I over slept. I wanted to get a jump on things today but it didn't seem to work out that way. What's our status? Still think we can pull off an 1100 fly time?"

"Well, basically everyone is back except for Garrus and a few of the support staff. They still technically have an hour before they're AWOL. The only major obstacle was getting the refits and mods loaded into cargo this morning for the core maintenance…"

"Yeah, I better get down to the dock." Shepard threw back the rest of the coffee in his cup and sighed, "I need to see how long it's going to take the freight loaders to move everything over."

"You didn't let me finish, Commander." Joker gestured to the screen where security footage showing the dock outside of the Normandy still played. "Our illustrious, hard-charging propulsion chief was down here at 0500 all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed demanding I open the cargo doors so she could get things moving. They should be finishing up any time now."

"At 0500? You're kidding. You didn't think to maybe wake me up and let me know?" Shepard surveyed the other man with a raised brow. "And what were you doing down here that early?"

Joker shrugged, "I didn't really see a need to wake you. Chief Lamb's in the cargo bay running things like it's a game show. She may be stiff as a board but she's got those guys moving down there like their asses are on fire. She won't leave the ship to go down to the dock, though. Kind of strange. She's been yelling instructions down from the top of the ramp to the guys doing the work. She's probably waiting for someone to give her permission to go ashore." He snorted at his own jab at the woman before leveling a pointed look at the Commander. "And for your information I always like to spend a little quality time alone with my baby before pulling out of port. You know how it is."

"Jeff," EDI cut in, "I didn't realize you felt that way."

"EDI, that's not what I—Augh!" Joker threw up his hands. "Just, never mind…"

Commander Shepard laughed at the pair's exchange and wondered, not for the first time, at just how much EDI had evolved. "Well, it sounds like I should leave you two to your…quality time. I'm going to head on down to cargo to check on Chief. If you see Garrus come in ask him to meet us down in the propulsion room."

"Aye, Commander."

XXXXXXXXXXX

Chief Lamb paced anxiously back in forth in front of the cargo doors. One of her hands was clasped tightly into a fist at her side while the other held a pry bar in a death grip. It was still fairly early in the morning but she could see the Citadel beginning to wake up around the Normandy's docking station. People of all different species were starting to pour out into the walkways and corridors. Curiosity made them stop as they moved through the docking level, pausing to watch the men who were busy moving boxes full of supplies and equipment into the cargo hold of the famous SSV Normandy. It made her nervous.

Thankfully, all of the large crates and equipment had been the first to be brought onboard. Only a few odds and ends as well as smaller boxed components remained to be moved. She anticipated that within in the next fifteen minutes or so she'd be able to comm Flight Lieutenant Moreau to shut the bay doors, thankfully sealing out any and all non-Alliance, non-human personnel so that she could think straight once again. First, however, she needed to deal with her more immediate concerns.

"Where would you like this one to go, ma'am?"

Chief Lamb, edgy, jerked around to face the speaker and felt her hand tighten around the pry bar of its own accord. Large, dark, almond-shaped eyes set into an amphibious face looked inquisitively back at her. The salarians unsettled her. They reminded her too much of sci-fi stories she'd stumbled across on the extranet of bulbous-headed, large-eyed, gray aliens that would abduct humans from their homes in the dead of the night to take back to their ships to conduct experiments on them. She was suddenly very, very glad for the pry bar.

"Sit it down over there." She gestured with the tool. She watched, waited until the alien had placed the box into the location she had indicated, and made his way back out of the hold before approaching the container and cracking it open to inspect the contents. She was engrossed in comparing the inventory in the crate to that which was on the parts manifest when another voice cut through her concentration and caught her attention.

"I see you don't like to waste any time, Chief. I wish more of my crew was as proactive as you seem to be."

The Chief immediately straightened from where she crouched and came to attention. "Good morning, Sir."

"At ease, Chief." Shepard took another sip from the coffee cup he'd taken time to refill before venturing to the cargo bay doors to look down at the loading crew. "Joker told me you were up and about very early this morning getting things ready to pull out. I appreciate the effort."

"It was my understanding that we were to be getting underway at 1100 hours, Sir. I just wanted to make sure we made the deadline." Truthfully, she was more than eager to get moving and get as far away from the Citadel as was humanly and technologically possible. The Chief shuddered ever so slightly and was thankful the CO had his attention turned outside to the men finishing up on the dock and didn't see it.

"Well," Shepard stated as he turned back to the woman and grinned, "It looks like they're about finished up down there except for the paperwork, of course. That's the one thing I've always disliked about the military. Too much paperwork if you ask me." His smile faltered ever so slightly once he realized that the woman was not going to respond to his quip and instead continued to gaze at him coolly as she awaited further instruction. He sighed, "Tell you what…I'll go down there and take care of the paperwork. Why don't you go ahead and head on back to the propulsion plant? Everyone should be on board and at their stations by now. I'd like to introduce you to the people that'll be assisting you and then you can take it from there."

Chief Lamb hesitated. She'd dreaded this moment since the CO had informed her she'd be working with others. Still, she couldn't disobey a direct order from an officer appointed over her. Her nerves flared and her stomach rolled but she did what she had been trained to do and nodded in acquiescence. "Aye, Sir."

XXXXXXXXXX

His career at C-Sec had been fraught with frustrations. There were too many rules and regulations, too much bureaucracy, too much corruption, and not enough justice for his tastes. It had always been disheartening to him to work so hard to apprehend a criminal only to see them be released back onto the streets to continue their activities because they had connections on the inside, enough money to buy their way out of a cell, or someone had forgotten to file the paperwork in a timely fashion. He had jumped at the chance to leave the hallowed halls of C-Sec to follow Commander Shepard. He relished the chance to make a real difference out there in the galaxy. He basked in the ability to get things done without being bogged down in red tape and regulations. He was a very, very bad turian.

All that aside, C-Sec wasn't all turmoil and disappointment. There were plenty of good, decent men and women who made up the C-Sec officer ranks and he was privileged enough to call many of them friends. Garrus Vakarian's mandibles flared into a grin. It had been nice to catch up with some of his old acquaintances. He'd even inquired about his father and had even briefly entertained the notion of comming him to check in. He hadn't really spoken to his father since the fiasco that was Omega and knew, despite his father's sharp disapproval of how his son chose to lead his life, that the man was probably worried out of his mind. Still, it had been a good couple of days and Garrus hated to end his last few minutes of freedom before heading back out into the fray on a lecture from his father. He'd send the man a message at some point, he promised.

Garrus had also promised Shepard he'd be back on board and ready to go by 0815 and a quick check of the time told him he was right on schedule as he stepped inside of the ship and waited for the decontamination cycle to end so that he could proceed. When the doors finally opened after a long moment and he could step into the ship proper, he wasn't a bit surprised at the flurry of activity he found within the Normandy's hull. Crewmen scrambled to and fro as they made flight preparations. Various individuals paused in their rushing to wish him good morning and welcome him back to the ship. Garrus smiled. Yes, the Normandy was a human ship but he'd never felt such comradery…not even during his stint in the turian military.

"Hey, Big Guy. Welcome back."

Garrus turned to see Joker had swiveled around in his seat to face him. Still smiling, Garrus made his way toward the pilot. "Joker," he rumbled. "Surprised you didn't come out last night for at least a little while."

"Well," the pilot shrugged. "Getting plastered, falling down, and literally breaking every bone in my body just doesn't have the appeal it used to. Must be getting old."

"Shame," Garrus sighed, "But, it was a rather uneventful evening for once so you didn't miss much. I guess there's always next time. Everyone make it back?"

"Mostly," Joker shrugged. "Just waiting on the usual stragglers."

Garrus nodded in understanding. "Speaking of stragglers, I should probably go see what needs to be done so we can get out of here." The turian turned to go but was halted by the pilot's voice calling behind him.

"Hey, G! Shep said he wants you to head on down to propulsion!"

Garrus swiveled on his toes, and shot the pilot a sloppy salute to acknowledge he'd heard him before spinning back around and continuing on his way. He had hoped he'd have a few minutes to run some firing algorithms before diving into the engineering project but it apparently wasn't meant to be. It wasn't but a few minutes later that he found himself lingering outside of the propulsion plant door, taking in the crates and boxes full of equipment, parts, and supplies for the conversion. He was infinitely glad someone had the foresight to go ahead and stage all of the equipment. He may have loved tinkering and doing his calibrations but unpacking and sorting through shipping containers for the means to do so wasn't high on his list of favorite things to do. He hummed to himself in approval before palming the door sensor and allowing himself entrance to the workspace.

More boxes and containers were neatly arranged against the bulkhead inside of the propulsion plant, cracked open, clearly labeled, organized, and ready to go. He stepped further into the space. His clear, blue eyes swept over the area seeing no one but his keen hearing picked up the sound of shuffling in the back corner of the space near the auxiliary power junction station. Smoothly, he turned in the direction of the sound. His armor encased toes clacked on the cool, metal flooring as he made his way around the main power console toward the back corner of the room where the noise was originating from.

"Hey, Shepard," he started, "It looks like someone's been busy this—oh." He halted in his tracks. Instead of the broad outline of his Commander and friend, he had stumbled upon the petite form of a woman crouched down over a crate where it appeared she had been sorting through its contents. She had ceased all movement at his approach, her back going stiff and her fingers fumbling as she dropped what she held in order to grasp the edge of the cargo box. Her back was to him so he couldn't see her face but he could clearly hear her surprised gasp. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. The Commander sent word I was supposed to meet him down here. You must be Chief Lamb. I'm Garrus Vakarian…"

The woman moved then, slowly rising to her feet. Stiff-legged, she turned jerkily in place until she faced him. Her light-colored skin paled even further taking on an almost translucent appearance as her eyes widened into near perfect circles at the sight of him. She seemed not to know where to direct her gaze but eventually seemed to settle on the scarred side of his face. Her shallow breaths came more rapidly and beads of sweat dotted her forehead. She trembled visibly. She moved backwards in awkward, shuffling steps until the backs of her legs hit the crate she had been digging through and she could go no further.

Garrus' plated brows furrowed in concern. "Are you alright, Chief? You look like you're going to be sick." He took a tentative step toward her. "Should I comm Dr. Chakwas?"

"No!"

The woman's sudden exclamation rang loud in the enclosed space and caused Garrus to pause. He wasn't sure if her outburst was directed toward his approach or the offer of medical assistance but, if possible, Garrus could have sworn she grew even paler. He was an expert on humans by no means but he knew terror when he saw it. His mandibles slack in confusion, he took a quick look around the space as he tried to determine what it could be that had the woman looking like she'd just came face-to-face with a thresher maw. Coming up with nothing untoward, his head swiveled back in her direction. "Are, uh…is there anything I can do?"

One of her shaking hands reached to tug at the high collar of her crisp uniform while her other extended out before her in a defensive posture. She gulped audibly as if she couldn't get enough air into her lungs. She was hot yet freezing cold at the same time. Flashes of memory played across the back of her eyes, transposed over the current scene before her. Teeth, claws, weapon fire, red and blue blood soaking into the war-torn ground…screaming. Someone was screaming. She couldn't breathe as her fight or flight instincts kicked in. There was nowhere for her to hide in the small space, nowhere for her to flee to. The voice in her head kept screaming of danger and death. She felt dizzy…lightheaded. Her vision darkened, the edges of her sight narrowing down to a small tunnel of light. The room spun on its axis. Her fingers grasped for something, anything, to steady herself upon but came up empty as her eyes rolled back into her head and the floor came rushing up to meet her.

"Chief!" Garrus moved as soon as he saw the woman's knees start to buckle. He managed to grab her, stopping her fall before she could smack her head on the shipping crate behind her. She was completely limp in his arms, startlingly light, and her breaths still came in shallow, stuttered bursts. Awkwardly, he managed to shift her around to where he could properly lift her from the ground, mindful of how small and fragile she felt. He gave her a quick once over to make sure she wasn't injured before making a hasty exit from the propulsion space.

He sent a message to both Dr. Chakwas and Shepard letting them know that something had happened and that he was on his way to the med bay, Chief Lamb in tow. He walked quickly, earning stares from the Normandy's other inhabitants as he passed through the corridors cradling the unconscious woman. He could feel the curiosity coming off of them in waves but did his best to ignore it. Spirits, he didn't even know what had happened, really. Something about the situation, the terror he'd thought he'd seen in her eyes, perhaps, nagged at him. He pushed the feeling aside, at least for the time being. There would be plenty of time for him to play detective later…just as soon as the woman was safely in Dr. Chakwas' care.

 **End of Chapter 4**


End file.
